


The man with the blue box

by toothferry



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Carlos Backstory, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:36:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2020137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toothferry/pseuds/toothferry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos and Cecil finally work up the nerve to talk about their pasts, but will they find time to understand themselves and each other while a new danger threatens nightvale? Meanwhile, station management is threatening to take away Cecil's show, and a strange new man in a bow tie has arrived in town...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dear listeners_

_I thank you for your patience this evening; the broadcast was more unpredictable than I ...predicted. Patience is a soft friend to have, especially in a town like ours. Yes, patience is your very own soft, furry friend. Feel it snuggling up around your chin, under your ears. Can you hear it purring? Pet it gently. That's right, very good. Keep the warm weight of patience like a cloak. Feel its heat and let it protect you from the cold drafts of impulsivity and fear. There is no fight or flight, there is only sleep._

_Goodnight, Nightvale, goodnight._

Cecil raised one long, pale, finger and flicked the switch on the side of his soundboard. The red light flickered and died. He remained seated, fiddling with the cord on his microphone. He resisted the urge to look out his window; he knew from years of experience that Not Looking was almost always better than Looking. This was a concept he was still trying to teach Carlos.

Carlos. Sweet, kind, beautiful Carlos. There was something troubling his scientist, and Cecil knew better than to pry. Carlos would talk when he was ready, and if he needed a powerpoint presentation with references and footnotes to feel comfortable, so be it.

It began to rain, gently, a soft pattering on the tin station roof. Going against all his instincts Cecil pulled himself to his feet and padded across the carpeted floor to the window. Peering through the blinds he could make out raindrops against the desert sky. Real, honest-to-goodness raindrops made of water. He couldn't remember the last time it had just rained. No animals, no acid, no kitchen utensils or human(?) organs. Just water.

There was a knock on the glass door and Cecil turned. It was that new intern, what was his name? Herschel? Henry?

"It's Hamish, sir." Oh right, the telepathic one.

"That's right, sir. Station management is, er, strongly suggesting that you leave, since you've finished your last broadcast for the evening. They're anxious to start the next program."

"The next program?"

Hamish consulted his clipboard. "It's a ten hour broadcast of the sound of laundry being folded accompanied by the swedish phonebook being read aloud. Sir."

Cecil nodded absentmindedly and started gathering up his things. He slung a worn leather messenger bag over his boney shoulder and slunk into the hallway, jingling his keys louder than necessary so as not to startle station management. The stairwell was easy to find today and much less sticky than usual, so Cecil was out on the sidewalk in a matter of minutes.

It was almost midnight so the street was deserted. The rain lifted the smell of the warm asphalt and desert sands, and Cecil opened his arms and turned his face to the sky. He closed all his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

*                         *                             *

There was a tall, winged figure on Old Woman Josie's front porch. There might have been more, maybe up to five, but it was hard to look at more than one of them at a time. They didn't do well in peripheral vision.

Old Woman Josie herself was sitting in her rocking chair, knitting something a little more moist than traditional. She was also talking; it was unclear whether her speech was directed at the winged figures or the knitting.

"I saw a new man today. I'm sure I've never seen him in town before. He's quite tall (though not as tall as you, Erika), and he's got the strangest eyes. You know, I don't think he arrived like all the others. Oh shit, I've dropped a stitch."

One of the winged figures bent down gracefully and picked it up for her.

"Thank you dear. Where was I? Oh right. Just what this town needs, new blood. About time. Erika you should have seen him! He was wearing a bow tie. And he had the strangest blue box." Erika nodded sagely. The wind began to pick up, blowing the rain sideways across the dark desert.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear listeners_

_A new man arrived in Nightvale last night. He is tall (though not as tall as Erika), wears a bow tie and has a large blue box. Our sources report that he also has "The strangest eyes". If anyone sees this man, welcome him to our humble town! Visiters are always welcome, unless they show cannibalistic intentions. If this visitor displays cannibalistic intentions, kindly direct him towards Desert Bluffs. The Sheriff's Secret Police released a statement explaining in great detail why this man was to be captured at all costs and his blue box destroyed, but it was printed on the back of a large armadillo who has since escaped into the desert wasteland. I don't know about you, but I for one am looking forward to meeting this nice man!_  

"Carlos?"

Cecil pushed open the door and stepped inside, shedding his coat and bag. Carlos was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. On the counter sat a row of graduated cylinders, all bubbling softly. His lab coat was folded neatly on a chair and his protective goggles were pushed up on his forehead.

"Good evening Cecil. I'm glad you made it home okay, it's raining pretty hard."

"I know, isn't it wonderful?" Cecil stood behind Carlos and wrapped his arms around the scientist's slim waist, burying his face in his hair. "Whatcha cooking?"

"Just some mac and cheese, I know you're always hungry after work."

Cecil made a small inhuman noise and kissed Carlos on the neck before disentangling himself to turn on the radio. A gentle female voice spoke over the faint sound of someone creasing fabric.  _"Lindblad. Lindblom. Lindbo. Lindborg. Lindeen. Lindell. Lindelof. Lindeman. Linden. Linder. Lindfors. Lindgren. Lindh. Lindholm. Lindland. Lindman. Lindmark. Lindquist. Lindroth. Lindskog. Lindstedt."_

Carlos began dishing up pasta and Cecil pulled out mismatched cutlery. The patter of the rain could still be heard on the roof. On the radio the gentle female voice moved on the the letter M. They both took a seat at the small table at the back of the kitchen.

 _"Magnus. Magnusson. Mahlberg. Majerus. Malm. Malmberg. Malmborg._ "

"Cecil, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

_"Markus. Markuson. Martinson. Mathiason. Matson. Mattsson. Melander. Melberg. Mellgren."_

"I've been here over a year and I've never told anyone about my past, or about how I got here. I feel if I can trust anyone it's you, Cecil. The truth is I've been trying to make sense of it and I don't think I can do that alone." His voice hitched in his throat and Cecil looked up, surprised. In the three months they'd been living together, he had never seen Carlos cry.

_"Nordell. Norden. Norder. Nordgren. Nordholm. Nordin. Nordling. Nordlund. Nordmark. Nordquist. Nordstrand."_

Hiding his face as though ashamed, Carlos stood up and left the room. Cecil watched him go, calmly chewing his pasta. After a few minutes he gathered the dishes and placed them in the sink. He leant on the counter, staring at the stove. The stove stared back. Finally he walked to the bedroom and knocked on the doorframe. 

"Carlos? Can I come in?"

There was no reply so Cecil pushed the door open. Carlos was lying in bed, fully clothed. Cecil padded across the room, removed his shoes, and lay down beside him. He wrapped all his arms around the still scientist and listened to the comforting sound of the rain. In the kitchen, the gentle female voice continued.

_"Ros. Rosander. Rosberg. Rosdahl. Roseen. Rosell. Roselle. Rosen. Rosenberg. Rosendahl. Rosengard. Cecil Palmer, beware. Cecil Palmer, beware. Cecil Palmer, beware."_


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear listeners_

_I appears the strange man has left our town for the time being. I say strange man simply in the sense that I have not met him, though there are many things I have met that are strange, and I'm sure there are many things I have not met which are not. It appears winter has come early to our little desert community, I hope you are all safe at home and out of the vicious wind. That wasn't personification, the wind is indeed vicious. It has long trembling teeth and beady red eyes. Station management has uncharacteristically given me permission to broadcast from home today, so I will be keeping you updated on the weather and all that happens in it._

Cecil leaned back in his chair and cupped his mug of hot tea in his long fingers. The wind literally shook the windowpanes, grabbing at the edges with misty fists. Carlos had retreated to his laboratory in the spare bedroom, they hadn't spoken since the previous evening. It was clear the scientist was embarrassed and uncomfortable and Cecil wished he knew how to help. 

When the broadcast was over he went to the kitchen and refilled his tea mug, pulling out an extra for his boyfriend. Cecil had given Carlos the mug as a birthday present last year, it was black with "I (heart) science" written on it in green letters (the heart was anatomically accurate). A cup of tea in each hand, Cecil crossed the creaking floor to the closed door of the spare bedroom and knocked with his foot. A moment later Carlos opened it, dressed in full protective gear. He took the offered mug with a half smile and stood back so Cecil could enter.

One wall of the room was covered in bookshelves that were overflowing with everything from scientific journals to cages of small rodents. Against the other walls were tables covered in test-tubes, beakers and racks of powders and liquids. Carlos hurriedly shifted a pile of notes so Cecil could sit down in one of the swivelling office chairs and hurried back to one of the tables.

"I really need to finish this, it'll only take a minute."

Cecil sat wordlessly and batted a foot against the carpeted floor, pushing himself around in circles. He watched the back of Carlos's head as the scientist bent over a graduated cylinder, carefully measuring some minute change. Finally he turned, looking triumphant, and removed his goggles.

"It's amazing! The air in this windstorm is denser than the normal air of the desert. It should sink, it's got all these particles I can't identify, but something is animating it so it can travel around and er, attack people. I need to run some more tests, I need to get to the research facility-"

"You're not going outside, you'll get eaten alive! You don't need to do anything, sit down and drink your tea." Cecil's tone was unusually sharp, and Carlos obeyed. The two men watched each other warily. There was silence save for the screeches of the storm. Finally Carlos spoke.

"I was born in Washington state. It was an industrial town, there was a lot of crime and violence. My parents had moved there while my mom was pregnant with my older sister. They were originally from Mexico, they came looking for a better life in the states. My father had been a surgeon in Mexico but he had trouble finding work, so they kept heading north. They had my sister in Tacoma so they just stayed. We were poor, my sister and I were bullied because of how we looked and the clothes we wore. We didn't bring the same food to school as the other kids, we didn't talk the same. But we were very close, and our parents loved us. My sister loved painting and poetry, she was an amazing artist. She also loved singing, like my mother. On the weekends I would hear my mother and sister doing housework and singing together in Spanish, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

Carlos's voice cracked. Cecil scooted closer on his chair and took the scientists hand. "Carlos, what happened to them?" He asked softly.

"When... When I was fifteen I came home from school one day. My sister had graduated the year before. My mother was the only one home and she was crying. She said the police had picked up my sister because they... they said she was a prostitute. She was just walking home from work, she worked late at a bar. They..."

Carlos broke down completely, and Cecil wrapped an arm around his shoulder. As the scientist sobbed, Cecil stood up and gently guided him to the living room so they could curl up on the sofa. He pulled off Carlos's lab coat as if he was undressing a small child, and let him lay his head on his lap. Carlos was still crying but he was determined to finish telling his story, his words muffled as he covered his face with his hands. As he went on his voice became more high pitched and almost hysterical.

"They beat her Cecil! They hit her with batons and shoved and kicked her... she wouldn't come quietly and she wouldn't do what they wanted because she was so fierce and independent and beautiful Cecil she was gorgeous when she smiled I swear it just made your chest open up and they shoved her in a cell and left her to die."

He stopped and took a deep breath.

"My father was furious, I'd never seen him so mad. He was such a calm, controlled man usually. He went storming down to the police station, I don't even know what he was planning to do. I stayed at home with my mother, we were so scared we couldn't eat or sleep. At 1 am we got a phone call and I answered, it was my father. I'll never forget it Cecil, he sounded so scared. He said "Carlos! They killed your sister and they're trying to send me back to Mexico, they found out my visa expired. Take care of your mother, we'll figure this out." It was the last time I ever spoke to him.

My mother became very depressed after that. I kept going to school, I cooked our meals and tried to get her to eat them. I couldn't bear to listen to music or read poetry because it reminded me of my sister, so I signed up for all the science courses I could. The last thing my father had ever said to me was "We'll figure this out". None of it made any sense to me, but science did. That's what science was about, figuring things out. I spent all my time studying and researching. When I graduated I was offered scholarships to any university I wanted. I didn't want to leave my mother alone but she said that's the reason they had come to the U.S., so that I would have a future. I went off to school but during my first year my mother killed herself. I couldn't handle the guilt, I dropped out of university and began traveling because I didn't know what else to do. I guess I was trying to get to Mexico so I could find my father, but I never made it that far. One day I was walking down the highway and next thing you know I was in Nightvale. It's a weird city Cecil, I've never told anyone this theory but I think the only way to get here is to have nothing left to lose. It somehow senses the despair and hopelessness and plucks you up."

For the first time in recent memory, Cecil was speechless. His silence was interrupted by the radio in the kitchen, which had turned itself on. A rough voice emerged, with a strong Scottish accent.

"Is this thing on? Am I doing it right? Hello Nightvale! This is The Doctor. If anyone knows anything about this ridiculous wind storm lets have a drink, shall we? I'll be at the radio station until these tentacle-ey fellows break down the door. I think that's all." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don't mind the doctor shift! I just love the new series so I'm trying to figure out a way to work twelve in. Bear with me! Thanks guys, I'm glad you're enjoying it xx

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is more than welcome! Thanks guys, more to come


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